


Justice

by TheCheerfulPornographer



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Dark, Gang Rape, Humiliation, M/M, Punishment, medieval methods of punishment, nothing about this is right, the Aesir are not nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCheerfulPornographer/pseuds/TheCheerfulPornographer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asgardian justice is harsh and merciless.  </p><p>Loki suffers; Thor tries to help, but probably just makes things worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justice

**Author's Note:**

> Look, up at the tags! It's a bird, it's a plane, it's **a fuck-tonne of warnings**! 
> 
> This story is pretty fucked up. Specifically, it contains public humiliation, non-con used as a form of punishment, misogynistic & homophobic language, and Loki-flavored madness. There is no happy ending, and no moral redemption.

Odin slams his staff down against the marble floor. Loki thinks that the echos must be amplified by magic, loud enough so that they can be heard throughout Asgard. "Loki, son of Laufey," the old man intones, beginning the sentencing ceremony.

"Loki, called the Liesmith, called Silvertongue, called the Destroyer, called Mother of Monsters: I, Odin All-Father, proclaim you outcaste. I, Odin Long-Beard, proclaim you _nithing_. I, Odin King of Asgard, proclaim you without kin, without family, and without clan."

"No one in this realm shall aid you, and no place shall call you home. No one shall provide you food when you are hungry; no one shall provide even water when you thirst. When you are sick, no one will aid you; when you are cold, no one will clothe you; when you fall, no one will offer their hand to pick you up."

"Loki, son of Laufey the Jotun, I strip from you the title of Odinson and the label of Aesir. You are nothing, you are no one, and there is no friend for you in Asgard any longer."

Loki, in his shackles and his muzzle, only shrugs. It is nothing more or less than he expected; he has seen other men sentenced to the same, for far lesser crimes than betraying the House of Odin. As for having no family or kin, and no one to help him, well, that's been the case for a very long time already.

Really, Odin is just making public what everyone in Asgard already knows.

The All-Father's next words give him more of a shock. "In addition, as recompense for your crimes and to teach you the humility befitting a _nithing_ , I sentence you to serve 12 hours in the public stocks. That sentence begins now." Odin pounds his staff again against the floor, and all of Asgard quakes with the impact. The roar of it echoes through Loki's frantic thoughts, and it sounds like a door slamming on him, far away. "So has the All-Father declared!"

*No. No. Nonono, not that. Anything but that.* Let them whip him until he's bloody, let them hang him or burn him, but not _that_.

A sentence to the stocks for one of the Aesir is a severe blow to his honor and social standing, and a recipe for public ridicule lasting for many years after. A sentence to the stocks for a _nithing_ , one unprotected by the laws of Asgard, is punishment of the cruelest kind, for the Aesir may torment him as they see fit, as long as they do not cause permanent damage. (This is hardly a restraint at all, for the Aesir are nothing if not clever in their torments.)

A sentence to the stocks for a nithing who is _Loki_ , the despised former Prince — who is pretty, who is known to be _argr_ , who is lithe and slender like a maiden... Well. Put bluntly, it means that the warriors of Asgard will be lined up by the hundreds, all waiting for their chance to fuck him. It means that all of his former so-called friends, along with his fake mother and fake father and fake brother and everyone he knew, everyone who knows him, will stand and watch while Loki is publicly humiliated, over and over again.

Surely even Odin would not be so cruel.

Such is the justice of Asgard, though, and Loki knows that it is pointless to struggle as the guards grab his arms and legs and bodily drag him forward. They haul his limp form out to the public courtyard of Odin's palace, where the stocks are already set up and waiting.

They leave the hateful muzzle covering his mouth, but unshackle his hands briefly, to push them through the holes in the board where they will be fastened. His head, also, they force forward and down, into the waiting neck-hole. Then they swing the top half of the board down, and clamp it into place. Odin himself is there to close the lock, with a key that he wears on a chain around his neck.

When it's done, Loki is left kneeling, awkwardly bent forward, with his hands and head constrained at knee-height. He takes a moment to give thanks for the gag, as much as he hates it, for at least it will keep his tormenters from using his mouth. It's a small mercy, but at least they will only be able to rape him one man at a time.

Because Loki is _nithing_ , he also gets the second part of the device, which an Aesir would be spared. He cannot turn his head to see them do it, but he feels the guards pull his legs apart and fasten another locking board between his ankles, holding them in place. And there he will stay for the next twelve hours, crouching like a beast with his legs spread wide, in the lowest, most submissive, most humiliating position possible.

Next, the guards strip him. Four rough hands tear away his garments, ripping apart the fine fabric without mercy. Loki forces himself to remain perfectly still, schools his eyes to show no emotion as they strip away his tunic, his leggings, and finally his undergarments. His pale, slender body is revealed to the Aesir crowd and they send up a cheer, full of jeering and catcalls. Loki has no doubt that there are many conversations among the Aesir warriors, full of jostling and boasting about which man will get to take Loki first, which one will punish him the hardest. 

He wishes then, for the first time ever, that he could turn himself Jotun-blue at will. Perhaps then, fewer of them would lust at the sight of his body. Perhaps then, fewer of them would want to touch him.

He braces himself, trying to prepare for the first intrusion. He doesn't expect that first touch to be a gentle, familiar hand laid against his back, nor to hear Thor's booming voice as it carries clearly above the crowd. (Thor has never needed magic, to be heard.)

"I believe that I have the first claim upon this one, for he owes me a great debt!" 

The crowd goes wild, ecstatic at the thought of the golden prince of Asgard sticking it to his traitorous former brother. Loki tenses up, despite his best efforts; his muscles tremble all over, and his mind succumbs to panic.

So that's how it is to be, then.

He'd hoped that maybe Thor, at least, would show him mercy and stay away. But of course not; here he is, heading up the line. That's Thor for you, always first at whatever he chooses to do.

Thor kneels beside him, and covers Loki's body with his own. Loki can feel the grooved metal plates of the armor pressing into his back, and the movement of muscles beneath the fabric of Thor's sleeve. Thor's arm is slung over Loki's shoulder, as one would do with a friend, and all that Loki can think is *run away, get away, do anything, just _don't let this happen_.* But the stocks are unyielding, and it _is_ going to happen, no matter what his mind has to say.

Thor whispers in his ear then, softly, as one would with a lover. "Brother." Loki flinches away. "Brother," he repeats, "I cannot stop this from happening." 

*And why would you?* thinks Loki. *You, more than anyone in Asgard, have reason to delight in watching me suffer.*

"I cannot go against Odin's proclamation," Thor continues. 

*Yes, and risk ruining your status as the dutiful son, the _good_ one.* 

"But I can make it easier on you, brother." And oh, his voice is so self-assured, so earnest. As if Loki wants this to be _easy_. "I can ease the way, make it easier for your body to accept it, make it so that you won't be injured. So that you won't feel pain."

Loki is incoherent, incandescent in his rage. *This idiot, this _worm_ , what does the fool think that he is playing at?* And then he feels a broad fingertip sliding down between the globes of his buttocks, slick with warmed oil. 

Suddenly Loki understands very well what Thor is playing at.

The god presses his finger in slowly, gently, taking forever to push in just to the second knuckle. Loki's muscles clamp tight around the intrusion, trying to resist it, but Thor persists. The finger slides in and out, dragging along the sensitive nerves around the opening, wiggling and twisting to open Loki up. 

He feels the tingle of magic over his skin, the oil infused with ingredients of some unknown spell. (Likely, then, the work of Frigga. She is the only Aesir who remains more skilled at sorcery than Loki.) Against his will, Loki feels his muscles starting to relax, his body opening as the god slides a second finger in, still moving at a glacially slow pace. And Loki doesn't want it, he doesn't _want_ it, but Thor knows exactly what to do, exactly how to bend and twist his fingers to make Loki's body respond. Loki's hard-won control begins to slip away.

Thor slides in a third finger, and Loki looks up at the gathered crowd. He catches the gaze of the Lady Sif, who sneers and gives him a look of such disdain, mixed with great pleasure. As if this is the best thing that she has ever witnessed. (He supposes that it might be; it's not as if the bitch will ever ensnare any man to lie down with her, herself. This is probably the closest that she ever gets to fucking.) He quickly returns his gaze to the ground.

He understands it all now, what Thor is doing, why Frigga agreed to help him. Loki will not even be granted the luxury of rebelling within his own mind, of screaming and cursing and calling out in pain. Of suffering these indignities like a _man_ , as he properly should. No, Asgard will not be content with desecrating his body; they must have his mind, too. They require not only compliance, but acceptance.

Not only will they rape him, they will insist that he must _like_ it.

Loki curses his body for a traitor, as Thor slides two fingers up the curve of Loki's shaft. His cock twitches in Thor's grasp and begins to swell, despite all of Loki's raging.

"That's it, brother, good," Thor croons, as he fingers Loki open. "Just let go. Let it feel good. This will be so much easier if you just let it feel good."

Tears of horror spring to Loki's eyes. It is the first time that he has cried since he was captured. (Not, however, the first time since his betrayal. He had much cause for tears, during his time with the Chitauri.) Loki turns his head away to hide them, and Thor seems to take it as some sort of signal of acceptance — or perhaps it's only that the crowd is beginning to grow noisy and impatient, demanding that Thor cease fooling around and begin Loki's punishment. 

Either way, there is a jangle of belt-clasps unclasping, and then a warm, hard, horrifying weight is pressed up between his buttocks, right against the sensitive opening. And of course Thor will be rock-hard; of course he's eager at the chance. Loki's own cock slaps up against his stomach, traitorously erect and slick with precome, as the huge, blunt head pushes in.

It doesn't hurt.

Loki despises that it doesn't hurt.

Thor has never been a patient man, and he seems to have reached the edge of his ability to go slowly. He slams hard into Loki's body, sheathing himself completely in the pale flesh. His hips slap against Loki's thighs, and Loki can feel all of him, every inch of him, surrounded and cradled by Loki's body. He is stretched and split and filled, _taken_ , and he's done this before, but it's never been like this. 

He never even _wanted_ it to be like this. 

And it's wrong, all so wrong, for this to happen this way — for this to happen _now_. But he can't let himself think that. The path of Loki has no room for might-have-beens, only for looking forward. 

Never for love; only for vengeance.

Thor begins moving, drawing back and leaving Loki empty and burning, and then slamming his hips forward and filling him again. He thrusts with such force in his powerful body that Loki's shoulders slam against the boards that hold him, again and again. They will be bruised tomorrow, but what's one more bruise at this point? 

The crowd is cheering and goading Thor on; people are actually applauding. Never before this moment has Loki truly grasped the depths to which the people here despise him. It is a lesson that he will not soon forget.

He will kill them all, for this. He'll figure out a way. Asgard is weak, to those who know its secrets, and Loki counts himself foremost among that number. When he shows his face in Asgard again, it will be only to return as its conqueror.

And in the ages yet to come, men will speak of Loki's vengeance only in whispers, under the cloak of darkness, and always with fear and trembling.

Thor moves a way that sends spasms of pleasure throughout Loki's body, and he loses his train of thought trying to suppress them. But Thor repeats the same movement again and again, setting up a steady rhythm. Despite his best efforts, Loki's arousal begins to rise. He can feel his orgasm approaching, like a whirlwind waiting to devour him. 

Then it arrives, and Loki is devoured.

His body shakes and spasms, rattling against the stocks, and his come splatters against the paving-stones. Thor drives into him one last time, hard, and then shakes between his legs and fills his body with warm slickness. Loki can feel it running down his legs, marking him. Thor sags for a moment, leaning heavily against Loki, and then pulls out.

He leans over and says something to Loki, but Loki cannot hear him through the white noise that fills his mind. It is the sound of madness, of glass shattering and bones cracking, of serpents hissing, of women screaming. 

This is it. The thing he's long feared has finally come true, the Aesir having accomplished what neither the humans nor the Chitauri could do.

Loki is breaking.

So caught up is he within his own mind, that he hardly notices when Thor runs a cloth over his buttocks and thighs, and then steps away. He doesn't really feel it when the next pair of huge hands grip his waist and the next huge prick is shoved inside of him, roughly, without any niceties.

It's true, he could have been gravely injured (though not _permanently_ , which makes it all okay) if it weren't for Thor's timely intervention. How _kind_ of the god to open him up for these men, to alter his mind with magic — to enable Loki to undergo his rapes without any inconvenient _suffering_.

For that kindness, he will kill Thor quickly and cleanly, without any drawn-out torture.

Loki's thoughts sustain him through the next fucking, and the next. The men just keep coming, pressing themselves into him, filling him with their seed until it flows down the insides of his thighs. They lose patience and crowd around him in a throng, taking their cocks in hand and spilling themselves onto his back and over his buttocks, until every bit of skin is slick and shining with their come. 

He would laugh at them if he wasn't muzzled — the oh-so-noble, honorable warriors of Asgard, driven into a frenzy over a Jotun _nithing_. Truly, he admires their self-control and restraint.

To think, such men as these are _worshipped_ by the humans.

The noble gods of Asgard tug and pull at his cock, laughing and mocking as it hardens over and over again. They call him argr, nithing, outcaste. Woman. 

_Mewling quim._

The puddle beneath him grows, his muscles ache from his position, tears stream from his eyes. And still they continue to ride him for hours upon hours, never-ending. 

Loki grits his teeth against the muzzle, and hates, and hates, and hates.

**Author's Note:**

> Relevant information: [an explanation of the meaning of _nithing_ and _argr_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C4%AB%C3%BE) and some examination of the Old Norse ideas of gender, sexuality, and honor. (Most of which Loki neatly defies, even before he becomes a traitor.)


End file.
